


This Game We Play

by lazarus



Series: Catlad!Tim Verse [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Catlad!Tim, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus/pseuds/lazarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always expect the unexpected. But Tim could have never expected <i>this</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Game We Play

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first contribution to the DC fandom. There was this 'what if Tim was trained by Selina instead of Bruce' thing going around, and I thought of having a go at it.

Tim enjoyed a good theft. The act was invigorating, heart-pumping and thrilling. Nothing felt better than sneaking passed the most state-of-the-art security system and walking out with a couple million dollars worth of diamonds right underneath their noses.

He was stealthy, he was agile, he was _smart_. He was pretty damn good at what he did. There wasn’t a jewelry shop he couldn’t break into, a lock he could not pick or even a security alarm he could not hack and disable. Catwoman may have taught him well, but Tim knew a few tricks of his own up his sleeve.

“Alright, that makes a thousand,” he said as he stuffed the last of the rubies into his back pouch.

With a merry tune, Tim skipped his way out of the vault, did a little wave at the camera which he knew would not be recording him, before strolling his way through the front door.

“All in a day’s work,” he said, grinning.

“Stop right there,” said an unfamiliar voice behind him. Tim froze, but only for just a moment.

If there was anything Catwoman drilled into him the first time she took him in, it was that he should never let his pursuers know that they had caught him off guard.

With his hands clasped behind him, Tim turned around.

Standing before him was a tall boy with dark, tangled hair, built arms and a toned chest, which on any other day Tim might have found the slightest bit distracting (and _hot_ ) if not for the part when his eyes finally caught up to everything else. The thick leather jacket, the red gloves, the _earrings_ , and the fact that the S-Shield was all out on display for the world to see—it was a solid indication who it was that caught Tim unaware.

He’d never encountered Superman before during any of his burglaries. There was the police and then Batman and Robin, but Catwoman had all but taught him how to avoid them easily (She called it ‘personal experience’ or whatever. Tim hadn’t thought to ask what she meant by that).

He’d never thought he’d bump into _Superboy_ , of all people.

“May I help you with something?” Tim asked politely. In his head, he was reciting Step 1 for whenever you get caught off guard:

 **Distract the enemy**.

Superboy smiled. It was the kind of smile a predator wore right before pouncing on their prey.

“Yes, you can actually,” he said. “In fact, why don’t you return the jewels you stole and come quietly while I escort you to the nearest police station?”

 **Step 2: Look for alternative exits**.

Tim had spotted at least 5 in the time it took Superboy to finish his sentence.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Tim innocently, taking a step back.

Superboy narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “I know you damn well do,” he said. “And if you want to avoid getting your ass kicked, I’d just you cooperate.”

 **Step 3: Create a distraction**.

Tim laughed. “Kick my ass?” he snorted. He was already reaching into his back pocket for a gas grenade. His smile was thin as he said, “I’d like to see you try.”

He launched the gas grenade, watched it explode into a wide fume of purple fog and stench before he slid back into the shadows. He was about halfway to the nearest alleyway when he felt a powerful gust of wind swept past him and suddenly, he was being slammed against the wall.

Tim only had a moment to recollect his bearings before he came face to face with the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. They sort of reminded him of the sapphires he’d once stolen from his last jewelry heist. They were stunning.

“Caught you, Catboy,” Superboy growled, grinning that predatory smile of his, and from this angle, Tim could _feel_ it rumble against his chest. It was a pleasant vibration, only made better by the solidness of the arms that were pinning him down and the unexpected flare of heat warming his skin.

If Catwoman hadn’t also taught him to _Never let yourself be immersed in one thing for too long_ , Tim probably would have just let himself be. It was amazing really, how after just one short encounter with this boy, he could be so thoroughly undone by him.

Catwoman would be disappointed, Tim thought to himself.

“Now, I won’t ask you again,” said Superboy, his voice low and dangerous.

“Heh. I never knew you were so kinky,” Tim could not help but say, “but I’ll have you know, I don’t usually put out until after the first date.”

Tim could feel the grip on his arms imperceptibly tighten, but it wasn’t from irritation or anger on Superboy’s part. There was something dark and intense that had managed to worm its way into corners of his eyes. It was a glimmer, a tiny spark—hardly detectable to those who weren’t trained and already _skilled_ at catching the inscrutable, but Tim was and had caught it. A second later, Tim was being pinned closer against the wall.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” said Superboy, gritting his teeth.

 **Step 4: If all else fails… improvise**.

Tim’s smile was devious as he leaned as far as he could towards Superboy’s space, their noses barely touching at this point. It was moderately satisfying to see those pretty blues perceptively widen and contract in reaction.

“What about the fun way instead?” said Tim, wrapping his legs around Superboy’s waist, tugging the other boy closer. He could _hear_ Superboy’s stuttered breath and feel the way his grip had tightened on his arms. It’ll probably leave a bruise.

“What are you doing?” Superboy growled, and Tim could tell it was taking him every ounce of his strength not to lose control.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tim murmured and shifted his hips a bit more.

Superboy shut his eyes tightly. “Stop it,” he hissed.

“Why?” he asked. “Don’t you like it?” He shifted his hips again and Superboy practically made a sound that was half between pain and half between actual pleasure.

“Stop,” he said again, but there was hardly enough heat in it. Not enough of the usual vehemence Tim had heard earlier.

Tim feathered light kisses on the side of his jaw and down his neck, then finally, at his ear, he whispered, “Why don’t you _make_ me.”

And just like that, he was being hoisted up against the wall by some unknowable force that left his skin all tingly and strange but nonetheless pleasant—something that would have made Tim pause to think about if not for the fact that Superboy was already on him, crowding into this space until there was hardly an inch left between them. His lips were hard against his own, his tongue heated and wet as it swarmed the insides of Tim’s mouth. The warmth and the solidness he had felt earlier was magnified tenfold. It was like being close to a furnace. Every corner of his body felt ablaze and entirely consumed by everything that was Superboy.

He could feel him, taste him, smell him—all around him, and for the most part, Tim forgot his plans. He could feel that strange unknowable force let his arms and his legs go, but instead of making an escape, Tim found himself sliding his arms around Superboy’s neck, his legs at his waist again and his mouth meeting Superboy’s in another fierce kiss that literally took Tim’s breath away.

Superboy groaned and shifted closer. Tim could feel the uneven contours of the wall behind him dig deep into his back, but he could scarcely care about his discomfort right now. Not when Superboy was the only thing holding him up, keeping him warm and safe.

Superboy felt like fire and strength. He smelt of wind, open fields and something else entirely that Tim could not put his finger on. It was driving him _insane_. He breathed in deep and just allowed sensation to take over.

His hands weaved themselves into Superboy’s hair, his fingers tangling their way through soft, dark strands, gripping and pulling tighter as Superboy’s lips began descending their way down Tim’s neck.

“Oh God,” Superboy gasped against his collarbone as Tim all but yanked off his jacket. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I should _not_ be doing this—”

Tim paused. “Do you want to stop?” he asked.

Superboy’s answer was quick, immediate. “Hell, no,” he said, nipping at Tim’s earlobe.

“Well then,” Tim stuttered, his hands shaking as he started on the buckles of Superboy’s pants.

“What?” Superboy’s tone was teasing; a breath of hot air against his neck that made Tim shiver involuntarily. “No witty comeback this time?”

Tim laughed and then moaned as Superboy shifted his leg between his legs. “Just… keep… going—” he said.

Superboy kissed him then, and it was strange how much gentler it was from earlier. “I don’t even know your name.”

Despite himself—despite Catwoman’s number one rule: _Under no circumstances, even in death, should you ever reveal your identity!_ —Tim found himself whispering, “Tim. My name is Tim.”

Superboy said nothing for a moment, at which Tim thought maybe he blew it. Then finally, Superboy said, “Conner. Uh, I mean… Kon-el.”

Tim blinked.

The other boy flushed. “Well… my Earth name is Conner. My Kryptonian name is Kon-el. But mostly everybody just calls me Kon,” he said, giving Tim a small, sheepish smile. It was so different from the cold smile he received earlier that it made the corners of Tim’s mouth quirk upwards in return.

“Conner,” he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. Superboy met his eyes and Tim could see the blue swirl and darken as they watched his every move, his every reaction.

“Kon-el,” he murmured, touching Superboy’s cheek in a soft caress. “ _Kon_.”

Superboy shivered, once, before pulling him down for another kiss.


End file.
